


Combat Lessons

by Moirai



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fights, Gen, a little violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moirai/pseuds/Moirai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt: I feel like no one ever taught Cap how to fight - certainly before, when he was asthmatic and looked like he would snap in two if you pushed too hard, and then once he became Captain America everyone just assumed anyone that buff already knew what he was about - and Steve was too embarrassed to actually say anything, so he just made up his own style that basically involved bodily throwing himself on top of people. </p>
<p>Steve Rogers does something particularly dangerous during a fight and Bucky asks who taught him how to fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Combat Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a whilleeeeee back and forgot to post it. I found it sitting on my Google Drive and figured that more people might enjoy reading it besides me.   
> It is especially fitting in light of the recent trailer release for Civil War.   
> Hope you enjoy.   
> Many thanks to @heartofthemirror for beta'ing it all those months back when we were sharing an apartment. She might not even remember.

     The biting chill of the wind high up on the platform is nearly freezing Steve’s face off and after spending years encapsulated in a block of ice, Steve’s had quite enough of harsh winter temperatures. If Steve had his choice, they would still be fighting Hydra agents in the nicely heated base, picking off men one-by-one in the pleasantly comfortable 72 degree building. Following recent mission trends however, his preference was never really honored. Now him and Bucky are currently cornered up on a roof-top, after they had set off several alarms in the process of dismantling the base and extracting classified information. Being forced to do battle several hundred feet above the ground and exposed to the elements, Steve’s using his rage at the situation to power his punches. _The sooner this bastard goes down, the sooner I can get inside,_ Steve keeps telling himself. Catching a glance behind him, Bucky seems to not be taking notice of the weather, battling three Hydra agents simultaneously with a perfected ease. His fighting style is profoundly fluid and dynamic, flowing in an almost mystifying grace that ensnares Steve’s attention. He watches attentively as a knife in Buck’s hand grazes the abdomen of an especially infuriated agent while he simultaneously kicks another in the ribs.

     Steve’s focus is redirected back to his own skirmish as a punch meets his shoulder unexpectedly. Steve lets out a loud grunt before slamming his shield into the agent’s face, stunning him enough to kick out his knees and redirect his attention to his three still-standing enemies. They’re getting closer to the edge of the building now and Steve’s feeling awfully uneasy as the outer base lights look like specks of dust on the ground below. Steve turns his attention to the man on his right and tries to land a punch square to the guy’s jaw but the guy dodges out of the way the last minute and Steve only manages to graze the man’s chin. The man moves slightly out of the mob of agents and tries to kick out Cap’s knee but Steve manages to move his shield in front of him and deflect the blow, pushing back on the shield as he feels contact to throw the man off balance. The guy hits the ground and hastily rolls and stumbles back to his feet, rushing to rejoin his two other agent buddies at the side.

      Distracted with his current foe, Steve nearly misses another of his enemies pilfering through the pockets of one of his fallen Hydra comrades. He nearly misses the man withdrawing a pistol from the man’s jacket, his attention finally being pulled to the action after hearing the magazine being clipped into place. Steve’s eyes widen and, while he knows he might be able to deflect the bullet with shield, he has no way of knowing that it won’t ricochet off and hit someone else, someone like Bucky who is fighting in close proximity picking off his last adversary. Not having any other tactic in mind, Steve makes a split minute decision to bull-rush at the man and his two accomplices, throwing his entire weight into forward momentum. It’s not until his body makes contact with theirs, when his free hand maneuvers to disarm the man of his gun, that he realizes how close to the edge they actually are.

      He feels the wind pick up and panics momentarily as they enter free-fall. Steve realizes that he still might be able to get his shield under him, which would allow him to survive the fall only slightly mangled, but from what he remembers it hurt like all hell the last time he did it and he isn’t too keen on trying it again. As the ledge of the building passes him, Steve lets the captured gun plummet towards the ground below and shoots out his arm to grasp the ledge of the building. The three men, unfortunately, do not manage to shadow this maneuver and they are hurtled quickly to the ground. He can feel one of them as they try to claw frantically at his leg as they fall, can hear the screaming being swept away by the wind and, in silent apology, he shoots a prayer skyward. Steve takes a sharp breath as he feels the concrete ledge under his fingertips. Secure for a moment longer, he swings his dangling right arm, still clutching his shield, towards the edge and throws his shield to safety, not risking it falling to the ground below. He grasps at the concrete wall with all his strength.

      He’s hanging and mentally swearing for all of a few seconds before he feels a cool metal hand wrap around his bicep and, before he can contemplate his own enhanced mortality, Bucky is pulling him back up onto the roof, hauling him to safety.

      “Steve fucking Rogers,” Bucky mutters and it takes Steve a minute to realize that they are alone on the roof, spare a few unconscious enemies. “Who the hell taught you how to fight? What the hell was that? What were you thinking? ‘You know the weather up here isn’t so nice, might as well throw myself off the roof and see how nice it is down there’?”

      “The guy had a gun, Buck,” Steve replies sheepishly. Okay, his plan might not have been a hundred percent solid but he’s alive and without a bullet wound to the chest so, all-in-all it worked out pretty well.

      “So you disarm him,” Bucky replies vehemently, “You DO NOT go bowling for enemies so close to the edge of a roof, Steve. Who taught you how to fight? I’d like to give them a piece of my mind for not teaching you proper tactics.”

      “You’re going to look awful weird yelling at yourself then,” Steve replies with a grin. “But we’re pretty alone up here so give it your best shot.”

      Bucky falls silent for a moment, multiple expressions crossing his face one after another. The first is noticeable confusion, the slight head tilt, one his eyebrows raised. The next is understanding with a dab of shock, the wide-eyed frown. Following that is anger, an expression Steve is used to seeing, his eyebrows drawing closer together, the slight wrinkling on the bridge of his nose, his fingers clenching together.

      “Yeah. I get it. I taught you how to hold your own as a kid but who taught you the tactics, the proper procedure, defensive maneuvers? Someone’s got to have refreshed you on that bit since the army?” Bucky’s voice rose with each question.

      “In all fairness, they really didn’t teach me in the army either,” Steve responds quietly. “You don’t waste your time on some scrawny kid who probably won’t last as long on a battlefield as someone else. Better to just let them get themselves killed and train the guys who can actually save the country. Allocation of resources and all of that.” He gives a teasing, fond smile at the way Bucky’s fist clench further.

      “Are you telling me that Mr. Captain America, the star-spangled American war hero man, the red-white-and black and blue superhero right here has never had proper fighting lessons, ever?” Bucky asked with all the rage he could muster and Steve just sort of shrugged. “Don’t you dare shrug at me Steve! You’ve seriously never been taught the proper way?”

      “Ain’t nothing proper about what we do, Buck,” Steve laughs. “And I manage.”

      “You manage to throw yourself off a roof is what you manage.”

      “Pre-serum me was nothing spectacular so they thought that I wasn’t worth the time teaching. After I got the serum, they figured someone that looked as strong as me surely knew how to fight and I didn’t have the heart to tell them that although the serum gave me the strength, I was still that scrawny street-fighting kid throwing my weight at enemies in my mind. No one questioned, I didn’t ask and we all moved on.”

      “I can’t believe America’s golden boy never had formal fighting lessons,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “This isn’t acceptable.”

      “Listen,” Steve stands and dusts himself off. He secures his shield on his back and tries to knead out the tension in his shoulders. “We’re not going to make a big deal out of this. I’ve been in so many battles that I’ve lost count and I’m fine. Fighting-lessons or not, I manage and, believe it or not, I sometimes win.”

      “Is the ol’ big and bad Cap afraid of admitting to some agents that he needs lessons?” Bucky grins.

      “Buck..” Steve warns. He doesn’t want this dragged up. He doesn’t want to be living in a house full of superheroes if they know that he’s had the least training out of all of them. Well, minus the Hulk of course. You can’t really train a huge green monster but Cap is sure that Banner had many, many applicable lessons in self-discipline and calming techniques.

      “Relax,” Bucky walks past him and nudges his shoulder lightly. “I had your back before, Steve, and I’ll have it again.” He wipes some of the blood off of his hands and begins to walk towards the stairs.

      “What is that supposed to mean?” Steve asks hesitantly, reluctant to follow after his friend.

      “That means for the next few months, starting tomorrow, all your mornings belong to me. Five AM, bright and early in Stark’s Gym,” Bucky looks back over his shoulder.

      “You’re going to teach me how to properly fight?” Steve asks incredulously.

      “Someone has to. Get ready, Rogers. I’m a harsh instructor,” Bucky grins.

      “I remember that,” Steve frowns and squirms, kneading out some phantom pains in his muscles from childhood.

      “And now that I’m not worried about breaking you in two or you literally coughing up your lungs, it’s going to be _fun_.”

      Steve begins to follow Bucky down the stairs.

      “How much ice should I ready for tomorrow?” Steve is nearly too afraid to ask.

      “Oh Stevie,” Bucky laughs. “There will never be enough.”

 


End file.
